
?S 3511 
1.0S2 07 
1 1901 
Copy 1 



Egbert Willard Fowler 





DREAM- REST 



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Drawn by 
Belle Silveira 



DREAM -REST 




AVE you known it,.^ the 

great calm? — 
Do you know the silent rest 
That comes in half-waking 

sleep^ 
When no wish, nor a wraith 

of hope 
Stands before you incomplete, 
And life, like a shroud 
Earth-soiled, toil-wom. 
Lies discarded at the feet? 

30 peacefully I ky 

In the dream 
Which the day-dawn brought; 
For the dream that aD dreamers love 
Was for me at its waking close* 
How silent, how restful and cold 
I lay in the cradle of death. 
Close in the oaken womb. 
With my weary, life-tired hands 
Folded upon my breast**** 



Over the world-worn heart 

Dead in my peaceful breast**** 

And in this beautiful dream 

There was naught but the consciousness 

Of a ceasing of aD things**** 

Even desire of rest* 

'^AP ! Tap ! on the window pane 
Beat softly a wind tossed vine^ 
And the honeysuckle breath 
Spread a sweet pall o^er my Her* 
Outside in the golden day 
Blithe birds sang their praises of joy 
To the warm life-kiss of springs 
That had welcomed the hills to bloom* 

pROM a tree in the sunlight-flood 

White, balmy blossoms fell, 
And the, wind sighed fretfully 
To see them drift and sinlq 
But with every sighing breath, 
More fell with resistless peace — 
For like me, their work was done, 
And we neither felt regret. 
Dread nor fear of the mother^s breast***. 



The kindly carth-mothcr^s breast* 

Softly the watchers moved 

About the darkened room ; 

And their voices^ 

Gentle with awe, 

Were duD**** 

Like the far-off moan 

Of a wave-swept, sunless sea* 

To me — 

The calm voiceless one — 

These friends were my friends no more; 

Phantoms who came and went 

And whose sorrow no pain could stir 

In the idle dreamer^s breast**** 

With no dreams to disturb his rest* 

TfHEN night came, 

The Hrd songs ceased, 
And those who had wept in grief 
Lay as silent in sleep as I; 
But the petal-robbed, wailing tree 
Moaned for its robe of white* * ♦ ♦ 
Its wind-drifted bridal wreath* 

'PWO flickering taper flames 



Trembled above my fac^ 

Orange and red they glowed, 

Frail life-blossoms of fire» 

Circling, a plumy moth 

Swept Vound the pointing lure, 

And its fluttering shadow, 

Vast and black. 

Beat its huge wings forward and back, 

Until both lay silent in rest 

On the fading love-wreath laid 

Like a benison on my breast* ♦ ♦ ♦ 

Pale lily wreath 

On my breast* 

WITHOUT sound 
^ The three forms came* 
White, clear as the moon's cold glow 
Was the light of their trailing robes; 
But scarlet as blood were their lips. 
And lustrous the longing eyes* 
Softly they circled in dance. 
And chanted a weary rune* * ♦ • 
Tuneless and strange* * * ♦ 
The song 
Of the wailing wind in the pines: 



**To the dead give gifts 
Which the Ufe-lol?e stole; 
To the dead give gifts 
For the peace of the soul; 
For the soul that is not 
When the life is o'er. 
The gifts we bring 
Are of use no more/' 

'PHEN spoke the first ♦ ♦ • 

The proud^ fufl-bosomed one: 
^^He lies at rest 
And worms will eat 
The beauty that I loved* 
His youth I toofc^ 
His first gift was to me* 
Igive it back — 
The worthless gift I stole; 
To the dead I give 
For the peace of my soul/^ 
Then from her bosom fair 
A bleeding heart she tore* ♦ ♦ ♦ 
Her hearty so hot with lust, 
And in the candle flame 
Burned it to gray , dead ash* * * * 



Fluttering ash* , ♦ ♦ dead gray* 

XHEN she, 

The second one, 
With the hard Medusa eyes, 
Took from her unstirred breast 
A faded flower of blue, 
Which upon my lips she laid* 
'''Twasthisltook, 
For ^ twas this, not him, I loved* 
He saw what I could not see. 
And I stole from his eyes the charm* 
But in my breast the flower died* 
. * . * For the peace of the soul that is not 
When the love of the life is o'er, 
I give a gift that is dead 
As the life that can love no more. '' 

THEN the third bent slowly down 

And pressed her scarlet lips 
Upon my lips and brow* 
'^ Cold! Cold! ''she said, 
** Life cold* * * * 

For even death could not warm* " 
And no gift she laid on my bier. 



But touched a wound on her breast* . ♦ ♦ 
** I have nought, for I gave him all* ** 

^HEN slow came the song again, 

And the sweep of their trailing robes 
As they circled in weary dance* 
The one with the barren breast, 
The one with the eyes of stone, 
And the third with the empty hands* 

gUT the dead cannot be stirred 
By the royal beauty of lust, 
And the dead cannot revive 
The priceless flower of blue; 
And the dead cannot change the ash 
To the pulsing heart of youth, 
Nor kiss the aching wound 
Of the third with the empty hands. 
Phantoms that come and go. 
No sorrow nor pain can stir 
In the idle dreamer^s breast; 
And the gifts that the dead receive, 
Will not break the peaceful rest* 

J-JAVE you known it* * ♦ ♦ 



The great calm ? 
Have you known the silent rest 
That comes in half-waking sleep. 
When no hope stands incomplete, 
And life, like a toil-worn shroud. 
Lies discarded at the feet ? 



PJERE ends D ream-Rest, as written by 
Egbert Willard Fowler, with an illustra- 
tion by Belle Silveira. 100 copies were printed 
at A I w i I Shop, Ridgewood, New Jersey in 
April, 1900; this being number 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 

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e 015 897 061 2 " 



